


Bloody Stars

by Rosella_Burgundy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dragons, F/M, Stars, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 16:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20951441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosella_Burgundy/pseuds/Rosella_Burgundy
Summary: Seeing him again, made her see stars...bloody stars.





	Bloody Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iwasbotwp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwasbotwp/gifts).

> Happy Birthday, I_was_BOTWP!  
You are a precious star in our fandom. Thank you for all you do for me and countless more. True friends are rare, and I'm proud to call you one.  
Beta Love to RooOJoy, she polished my rough writing. All errors remaining are mine.  
JK Rowling owns the character and HP world.

* * *

When Hermione first saw Charlie unclothed, she had never imagined being brought before the stars and the universe in its whole. It was nothing as romantic as a kiss that renders you breathless. Instead, it was bloody and gory.

It was a snowy Christmas morning, a time where one could use the warmth of a dragon.

Despite the presence of many bodies to warm up the ambient, the Burrow was freezing during the winter months. Padding along the cracking floorboards, Hermione was set to go downstairs for a cup of tea and some needed heat.

She never made it to the kitchen as her feet stopped short, almost causing her to tip over, when she walked in front of Bill and Charlie's old room. Her heart jolted in fright.

Before she could scream for the surprise of finding someone in a room that was normally bare and forgotten, she reminded herself that Charlie was expected to attend Christmas at the Burrow this year. A new rush of agitation washed over her as she observed the way the feeble rays of the dawn danced across his naked torso. Blood pumped strongly in her ears.

It had been exactly three hundred and fifty-eight days since the incident in the orchard. After dancing around each other and their feelings for a decade, Hermione had decided to bring that tension to its culmination. Alcohol had played the role of the protagonist in her idiotic decision to grab his cloak lapels and pull him into a passionate snog. He had smelled like smoke and firewhisky, and his taste was something she'd never forget.

To her dismay, he had pulled away from her, a forlorn look scrunching his freckles together. His footsteps, as he sauntered away and apparated far from her, remained imprinted in the snow and her heart during that disastrous New Year's Eve.

Willing her breath to steady, she hugged herself. The wool throw she had dragged with her scratched her neck, and she welcomed the fastidious distraction from her internal turmoil. She should be leaving before she hexed his arse, but her legs wouldn't move. For months after the incident, she had to talk herself out of getting a Portkey to Romania and give him a piece of her mind. It hadn’t been the rejection to render her angry, but his modus operandi. Speeches were never among Charlie Weasley’s virtues, but a simple explanation would have been appreciated.

If it wasn't for her pride, she would have followed him. Alas, she let him go. Her heart had never completely healed, and even now, she was struggling to hold the reins of her galloping anger.

A grunt distracted her from her vengeful thoughts, and her eyes focused on the long ginger hair that appeared almost copper while it reflected the new sunlight. He wore it up, tied in a loose bun. She avoided his face like it were a trap, and she knew that wasn't far from the truth.

There was something wrong with him, she realized as she stole glances of him. His right shoulder hung lower than it was supposed to be. Charlie groaned, folding over his trunk, an arm pressing on his stomach.

That's when she knew she couldn't back away and wouldn’t jinx him either. She blamed it all on the oath she took when she became a Healer.

“Charlie,” she whispered, her feet already crossing the threshold. The throw gathered on the cold floor, abandoned. Her mind and demeanour fell into her role of Healer in an instant, recounting the correct trauma assessment procedure as she always did since she became the youngest healer in charge of the emergency room at St Mungo's. “Sit on the bed. Tell me what happened.”

Her wand was already performing the intricate movements of a diagnosis spell when he dared to refuse her assistance.

“I don’t need any help, thank-“

The Pandora vase had been open. “Would you like me to call your mother instead? Having so many children, I’m sure she knows a healing spell or two. She’ll also preach and complain about the dangers of your work and bugger you about finally coming back to England and settling down with a witch that’ll give you a thousand ginger babies.” That came out way harsher than she had planned. At this point, she couldn't care less.

Charlie's eyes blew wide, his mouth pursed, donating him an adorable concerned pout. He sat on the bad so fast that she thought he fell. She'd never seen a dragon whelp, but she was sure that they looked much like present Charlie when their mother was lecturing them. She silently thanked Molly's authoritarian mothering style.

"Now, tell me what happened, and let me do my job." She frowned when she noticed there was blood running down his arm. How had she missed that before?

After a grave sigh, Charlie explained, "We were called in to rescue a Hungarian Horntail. She had been hurt by poachers. One of her wings was slashed, and the poor thing couldn't fly."

Hermione smiled at his lengthy retelling of the rescue, but making the patient talk was a good way to keep them busy while she assessed the damage.

The diagnostic spell reported two broken ribs and internal bruising. The deep cut on his upper arm had fortunately missed any arteries, tendons, or the humerus. The muscle damage was concerning, but nothing a good _ Vulnera Sanentur _ couldn't repair.

The perfect lines of his muscles twitched when she touched his arm.

"...she was so scared. When I tried to approach her, she lashed out, and her tail hit my side. Something cracked inside of me. I didn't stop until we had her under a Confundus Charm. Unfortunately, the spunky broad didn't go down easy. She bit my arm as she was about to faint. I don't blame her."

Hermione couldn't help a grin. The love he had for those beasts was almost heartwarming. Almost, but she understood his devotion since she felt the same for her Healing duties.

While Hermione worked on his arm, the muttered spells slowing the blood flow and sewing the severed skin, she trained her eyes on his torso - anywhere but his eyes. She didn't want to face whatever was hidden in those sapphires.

Freckles and scars were scattered on his taut skin, gathering in little bunches as though they were intricate constellations in the sky. Here and there, a dark tattoo covered them. With no surprise, Hermione observed his dragons dancing among the stars, and her heart ached for that infinite universe that was Charlie Weasley.

As her hand skimmed across his waist to reach the bruising on the other side, her breath betrayed her, coming out in a short heave.

Charlie's chest expanded as he took a deep breath. His big, warm hand covered her trembling fingers.

"Hermione."

His voice reverberated within her, its low timbre pulling strings she had tried to keep from singing.

"I owe you an explanation."

The crack of his ribs as she healed the broken bones beneath the bruised skin was oddly satisfying to Hermione's ears.

"Bloody hell, that hurt." His huffing tickled her skin, inebriating her with his scent.

"That's what happens when a bone is reset." In an impressive show of restraint, she gave him a medical explanation instead of snarky remark.

"Yes. That's not the only thing that hurt. It hurt leaving you last year. I-" he hesitated, his hand leaving her own to rise to her chin. When he gently pushed upward, she lifted her face and froze.

His eyes, his beautiful irises made of gemstones, were shining in the morning haze.

"I love you, Hermione. Plain and simple. But I'm not sure I can give up my job and the dragons. I don't want to let you down when you wish to get married and have children. I'm sure my mother would be all about it," he said with a breathy chuckle, no doubt trying to diffuse the tension. With finality, he blurted out, "It's not what I wish for myself though."

Hermione almost choked on her own saliva when she laughed out loud, springing up to standing in front of him. Crossing her arms, she shook her head, sure that the rolling of her eyes could sway the earth on its axis.

"Thank you, Charlie. That's exactly what I needed! A big, strong, and muscled man to explain to me what I, a weak and emotional female, want for myself in the future."

He grimaced, the top of his ears camouflaging with his red locks.

"You are a bloody moron." She scoffed, her feet dragging her in mad pacing. "I don't want children. I'm almost thirty and made up my mind. My career is more important, and I'm not a motherly figure. You might have noticed. This is not something fleeting, by the way. Do you want to know why I fell for you, you doorknob?" She continued after stopping before him. "Because you are like me. You want freedom, not a romantic relationship. You love your job, not the idea of a family. You would much prefer amazing sex to-"

Her words died on his lips, and maybe she let herself wander to romantic fantasies of twinkling stars while he kissed her. It didn't last long. His possessive hands on her hips turned her mind sinful, and what she planned to do next was sure to send Charlie to fly among meteors and planets.


End file.
